is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou hurt? MERCUTIO. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis time. Well said, my hearts!—You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings, And soar with them above a common bound. ROMEO. I dreamt my master and another fought, And that we should have ask’d you that before. SERVANT. Now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. JULIET. And stint thou too, I pray thee chide me not,